


Cough Syrup

by corgasbord



Category: Fate/Grand Order, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Brief Descriptions of Injury, Gen, I guess this counts as that, No Spoilers, Sickfic, can be read romantically or not tbh, gender-neutral protagonist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-19 22:27:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19365112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corgasbord/pseuds/corgasbord
Summary: There’s an unspoken rule followed by any physician with common sense: one must never get so attached to a patient that they can no longer provide fair and unbiased treatment.This has never a problem for Asclepius—never, until he is contracted to a sponsor who proves too interesting to ignore.





	Cough Syrup

**Author's Note:**

> so i read some summaries of lostbelt 4 and uuhhhh guess who my favorite was.
> 
> anyway i've been chipping away at longer works, but decided to write a short little thing about asclepius in the meantime to get my feelings out there. i must say that i'm honored to be the one to christen his tag... i love you snake man

There’s an unspoken rule followed by any physician with common sense: one must never get so attached to a patient that they can no longer provide fair and unbiased treatment.

This has never been a problem for Asclepius. He doesn’t hold any particular interest in his patients as people to begin with. They are cases, they are data. They are human, of course, but they are proof of his progress just as much. They are not his friends, nor has he ever wanted them to be. The boundary drawn between doctor and patient must be absolute, and stepping over it would be both improper and a distraction.

He does not understand, then, what it is that fascinates him about his current sponsor.

“Open your mouth so I can see your throat,” he says to them, wielding a penlight.

Ritsuka, perched on the exam table, complies with a drawn out “Ahhhhh.” Asclepius inclines his head, shining the narrow beam past their tongue until the back of their mouth comes into view.

“Hm… no pustules,” he observes. “Not the onset of bronchitis, then. Though, I could tell it wasn’t that serious, anyway.”

“Then why look in the first place?”

“Don’t speak,” he says, clipped. One sleeve-draped hand lifts to get a firm hold on their chin, keeping their jaw open. “I wasn’t done yet.”

Ritsuka makes a nasally noise that sounds somewhere in between affirmation and exasperation. Somehow, he gets the feeling that he’s the one being indulged here and not the other way around, as is usually the case. His lips purse with an irritation that he’s not sure whether to direct more at himself or at them.

After another few moments, he withdraws and turns off the penlight. “Yes, your throat is visibly inflamed. The swelling isn’t dangerous, though. I’ll just take your temperature to determine whether this little cough of yours is serious.”

Ritsuka’s head cocks as he prepares a thermometer. Their voice is hoarse, quieter than normal, but that doesn’t stop them from commenting, “Couldn’t you have done that first by just feeling my forehead or something?”

Asclepius frowns. “Don’t be stupid. That method would be both imprecise and unprofessional.” He waves one arm, his oversized sleeve flopping limply with the movement. “Besides, my sleeves are in the way.”

“Roll them up, then,” Ritsuka says with a shrug. “Actually, why are you wearing long sleeves again, anyway? I thought the whole reason you had on the surgeon getup was so you could move around easier.”

“And I thought I told you not to speak.” Asclepius takes their jaw again in one curt motion and slides the thermometer past their lips. “Hold it there, under your tongue. Even a child can follow an instruction that simple.”

Ritsuka pouts at him around the intrusion, but does as they’re told. Up this close, Asclepius is able to see more clearly than ever the red in their skin and the thin layer of sweat glazing their forehead. Although their words are as contrary as always, there’s a tiredness in their dull eyes, the slow and vacant droop of their eyelids, the sweep of their lashes against their cheeks.

… He doesn’t know why that draws his attention. He doesn’t know why he’s been doing this in the first place.

Asclepius is no omnipotent healer. He doesn’t have time for trivial cases like common colds. This sort of work is better suited to that Nightingale person, who’s a genius but a busybody if he’s ever seen one. He will gladly examine any serious affliction, but Ritsuka’s numerous past attempts to wrest some cure for a cough out of him resulted in him telling them sleep it off and leave him be. He isn’t sure how he concluded that turning them away was more of a bother than humoring them.

The thermometer beeps at him, clearing away all pointless thoughts. He removes it and takes a step back to check the temperature.

“99.8 degrees,” he reads. “A definite cold, but not a fever yet. As expected, it’s nothing serious.”

“Like I said, why look in the first place, then?” Ritsuka asks. With a sniff and half of a good-humored smile, they add, “For a while after I summoned you, when I came to you with the sniffles you’d tell me ‘come back when you’ve broken a bone or two’ and things like that.”

Asclepius remembers that. He never thought it was an irrational response, either. He was always busy working on other things, other patients, gaining information that would contribute to his research into resuscitation medicine. Every moment spent away from those developments is another moment that the power to thwart even Hades could slip through his fingers again.

Even so, there came a point when Ritsuka did get brought into the medical bay with a broken bone—a tibia snapped almost clean apart in two different places, among other serious injuries. Asclepius is accustomed enough to the sight of injury that he has the stomach for it; a doctor, after all, must be primed to witness the worst of human suffering. That’s why he didn’t anticipate that seeing his contractor in such a state would leave with him a taste so bitter as to make his forked tongue curl.

“Well, you should consider yourself lucky. I’ve actually been looking for a chance to test a new drug I’ve been developing,” he finally says, breaking their gaze to dispose of the thermometer. “If it works the way it’s intended, it’ll clear up that cold altogether. You can think of it as particularly potent cough medicine, though it shouldn’t have any negative side effects… probably.”

“You don’t need to make it sound so ominous.”

“There’s nothing ominous about it. It was only a precaution.” He steps over to his disorganized desk and peers over a row of vials, reading the labels to recall the one he wants.

From behind him, Ritsuka clears their throat. "Hey, Doctor."

He doesn’t glance back. “Hm?”

“Thanks.”

“What for? Are you that excited to be a guinea pig?” he snorts. “Heh. Then again, I suppose I can appreciate that enthusiasm for scientific progress.”

“You didn’t say it, but you made that medicine for my sake, didn’t you?” they ask.

Asclepius’s shoulders stiffen. He pauses to breathe the tension out of them and drain the blood from his face before turning, brows drawn. “What gave you that idea?”

“Oh, come on,” Ritsuka says. “You’ve said before that you don’t like to look at patients if they’ve just got a cough. They don’t interest you. But you’ve made exceptions for me recently. You complain about how I have a fragile immune system, but you're the one to take care of me no matter how boring my condition is.”

They’re right, Asclepius knows. That’s the frustrating part. Any ailment short of a high fever won’t draw his attention, but somehow, his Master has. His grip around the vial of medicine is tight as he brings it over, in part so he doesn’t drop it and in part because thinking about it winds up his nerves. He is not supposed to favor patients, even the one who sponsors him. He is not supposed to, and yet—

“You’re the one who pesters me the most about it, that’s all. Besides, given that you’re my sponsor, this seems like a good way of showing my thanks for all your assistance,” he explains. It’s not a lie, not entirely. “If it works, I could even distribute it more widely so that it takes away any excuse the rest of your lot has to bother me with pointless cases. Consider it a win-win.”

Ritsuka still has that annoying, knowing little half-smile on their face. “Do I need an excuse to visit one of my favorite Servants?”

“Yes. I've told you, I don't care what strange interests you have. I’m busy.” He uncaps the vial and holds it out to them. “Now quit asking stupid questions and drink this.”

Ritsuka obediently takes it and tips it back, only to come up gagging seconds later with a flurry of theatrical spitting noises.

“That tastes awful!” they cough.

Asclepius swallows the urge to snicker at their expression. “I never said that it would taste good. All that matters is that it’s effective.”

Ritsuka smacks their lips, grimacing. “And how long will it take for me to know if it is or not?”

“Within an hour or so. You can come see me again, then. Or sooner, if there are weird side effects after all.” He takes the vial back, and with a dismissive flick of his wrist, he turns back to his desk. “Until then, you know when to interrupt me.”

“Ugh," Ritsuka sniffles again. "Right, right. Rare patients.” He hears the tap of their boots on the tile as they slip off of the exam table. “Okay. I’ll leave you alone, but… thanks again for taking care of me.”

He gives them a passive stare over his shoulder. “I’m only doing my job. I owe that much to the one who understands how valuable my research is.”

They shake their head once, and when they smile at him again, there’s not a trace of the smugness that permeated it earlier. “Whatever you say, Doc,” they reply, something fond in their tone, something foreign to him.

As promised, they take their leave, and Asclepius watches the door for a minute afterwards and waits for his pulse to slow. Warmth, languid like honey, spreads from his chest to his face. It’s not the first time that someone thanked him for his services, and he knows that it won’t be the last, but it’s always different when Ritsuka does it. Ritsuka’s visits are more frequent and more frivolous than anyone else’s, but somehow they are among the few not to take him for granted.

_Ah... maybe that’s it, then._

He replaces the empty vial with a sigh and looks over his other works in progress. A doctor is meant to work tirelessly for others, regardless of whether they are thanked or not. A doctor has no need for appreciation. He shouldn’t crave that feeling of gratitude, or else it may become like a drug in itself.

Still, the truth of the matter is laid before him as plainly as a diagnosis. Against his own will, his Master has become a person he hates to see suffer, a person whose smile has become his only reward.

“Troublesome,” he mutters to no one as he busies his hands rearranging stacks of documents written in chicken scratch. “Troublesome, incurable stupidity. Ah, if only I could treat it…”

It’s only a few minutes later, when the corners of his mouth start to ache, that he realizes he’s been wearing a smile to match theirs.

**Author's Note:**

> i STRONGLY recommend that everyone read asclepius's [bond lines](https://heyochaldeluxe.wordpress.com/2019/06/24/asclepius-profile-lines/) if you haven't already, as they are what ultimately inspired me to write this. he's a snarky bastard and a true gift to the world.


End file.
